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Archive for the ‘Write On’ Category

Balik-Balik

Saya, sampai-sampai di bumi Kremlin terus berpantun tak hingat:

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Berdendang gundah sekawan merbuk,
ibarat helang mendesah daun;
Terpandang wajah tuan di Facebook,
ibarat hilang resah setahun.

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Ewah! Idok ler teman tujukan pada sesaper pantun nih benor nye. Sajer nak menunjukkan keperasanan diri kot-kot ada yang rindu ke teman sepanjang ketiadaan teman di arena Facebook.

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Plus, the flow of ideas must have come from the sleep that I managed to have caught up on… the day I was dead in Stockholm. Thanks to the Steamed Cod on Coriander Cottage Cheese Canaloni I had – at one of the fanciest restaurants in the capital city of Sweden – the cause of my death. Wanna see what took the life out of me that day?

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Separuh nyawaku pergi the evening after eating this. At first I was going to put the blame on my crazy cravings for fish. I had had nothing but fish right from the moment I arrived in Stockholm. From Halibut to Salmon, from Salmon to Herrings, from Herrings to this Cod. And from this Cod to another bowl of mix-fish soup minutes before my first emergency landing on the bowl!

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But then, because of the poisoning drama I had in Sweden… I lost 2kg of my fishy fat and am now back to my 50kg++++++++ body. Hah, ada berapa plus signs tu, chober kigher. Nevertheless, oooohhh! I am gone singing…

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Jangan kachawww
jangan ganggooo
aku chari abang akooo
bintang felemmm
nombor sattooo

Brapppa kaleee
aku bilanggg
aku sudah ada mambanggg
rambot krentenggg
misai melintanggg!

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Curang

Charge me. Go ahead. Go ahead and charge me. I am guilty. I admit my indecency.

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It has been going on for a while now. Two, maybe three weeks. And I… I can’t contain it any longer. I can’t bear the the burden of not telling anyone about it anymore. Three weeks may be short for some, but it’s too long for my cheating heart to stand the pretense.

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I don’t know why I am pouring it out on this blog. Perhaps I am most honest in my writing. All I am asking for now, since you are reading… is your understanding that I am just a human. And oh, I could not resist the temptation.

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With this, I confess, that I have been cheating on my husband. The last three weeks I’ve been hanging my bra on another man’s hanger! Yes, I have. It is my bra. And it is his hanger. He designed it. That’s what he does. He designs. And it was this entry that started our hanging affair. Between Oklahoma City and Moscow.

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This other man and I have been having two or three emails going back and forth between us, discussing what to do with his hangers and my bras – in a secrecy that we both understand even in silence, even from a distance. I think he’s the man for me bras.

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To Jimmy (not his actual name), please accept my apologies. I didn’t mean to hang my dirty laundry bra on your hanger here for the whole world to see. But I am so excited! And I think I like it, I like it! I’m about to lose control here.

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When you do get the design patented and commercially manufactured in the states, please don’t forget to send me a box of 25 hangers. I’ve just spent hours visiting Victoria Secret in Stockholm and bought 75 new imaginary bras to keep us ‘hanging on’.

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Oh Jimmy Asmaraku, what a movie!

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Postlude:

25 of Jimmy’s bra hangers will hang 100 bras and will keep a boob job a no-job. I like it, Jimmy. I like it!

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Glossary for Jimmy:

curang = unfaithful

(Bahasa Malaysia is my mother tongue.)

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Patah Hati?

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Tuba belida di hari dini,
Jurong merah ditetak jangan;
Apa petanda mimpiku ini,
Jarum ku patah di tapak tangan.

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Hot Stuff

It is downright amazing what an unfortunate event can lead to. At 2130hrs I was only wrapped in a towel ready to jump into the bath tub for a long good soak and a good scrub in my soymilk gel while tub-dreaming of ‘A Few Good Men’. Yes, a few.

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The unfortunate event:
The furnace was out. No heat. No hot water. So downstairs I went, to re-start the furnace which would only heat the water to the maximum temperature in about 20 minutes.
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Furnace re-started.

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On the way to the stairs I kicked myself for not turning the lights off in the dining room as through the windows the neighbors could see me in my towel. They probably could not see what was in the towel. But they sure would have a good view of who it was in the towel.  And while reminding myself that I should not have gone half bugil like that at night in my house with the lights on, I thought of the Bahasa Malaysia word for stark naked, which is telanjang bulat. Quite an obscene term, though very literal.

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(telanjang=naked, bulat=round)

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But what got me thinking was the ’round’ adjective that describes the main adjective ‘naked’. What is it that is so round about our body (as perceived by the Malay) that coined the term telanjang bulat? I can see ‘stark’ as being a state of completeness, totallity and entirety. But round as in the shape? Uh… I think the language-makers back then went one, or perhaps two steps too deep into the woods – if the term really is about the shape. While writing this, I am in my rectangular towel still. Not round.

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As I got upstairs, I just remembered that Kitreena’s snow pants needed mending. So, in my rectangular towel – gray in color with dark blue stripes – I went back downstairs to grab the snow pants and the sewing kit.

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I went straight to the Monchies’ room when I came back upstairs. To check on them. To open the windows a tad. To pull the covers back on their jammies-ed precious bodies. To kiss Edrick’s warm forehead. To brush over Kitreena’s back with my palm. Can’t reach her forehead. I am shorter than the bunk bead. Just like what I am going to be to my daughter in no time at all. Shorter.

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On the way out from me Monchies’ room, I stopped at their bathroom to take out the towels on the towel-heater and throw them in the laundry basket. I still kept the one on my body on my body. Not off. Before going to my bathroom to check on the water, I made a peek-stop at the computer desk and remembered that I was going to scan this flyer that had been sitting on the scanner for a week:

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I wonder what stuff on the staff at the salon that speaks English.
The picture doesn’t say it. Or does it?

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You see, a lot can get done in twenty minutes if I put my heart into getting them done. Thanks to the furnace,  I now know that I’ve got what it takes stuffed in me somewhere, to get stuff going, rolling and running. Tuff sometimes, yeah. But I am made of tuff stuff. Now, let me get this hot round stuff wrapped in the rectangular stuff into the bafftuff.

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Dua tiga hari kebelakangan ini saya seperti ditimpa ilham. Mungkin cuaca di Moscow yang bersuhu positif darjah Celcius telah mencairkan kebekuan di dalam peti ilham saya. Hmmm kalaulah boleh saya petik dan peti kan saja ilham yang menimpa saya beberapa malam ini… nescaya pantun saya dapat dijual dalam peti yang berukuran 8 sukukata darab 1 baris, darab dengan 4 baris 1 stanza bersamaan Tenaga = Kuasa x Masa.

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Apa salah padiku ini,
ditebang sayang ditugal layu;
Apa salah hatiku ini,
dikenang bimbang ditinggal sayu.

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Bukan cuka sebarang cuka,
cuka berampai sehelai sireh;
Banyak luka perkara luka,
luka yang mana bagai ditoreh?

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Bukan suka sebarang suka,
suka laksamana bergadai keris;
Banyak luka perkara luka,
luka yang mana bagai dihiris?

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Selasih tidak mayang pun bukan,
buluh seperdu sulam dipeti;
Kasih tidak sayang pun bukan,
mengeluh rindu di dalam hati.

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Buahlah pauh di biku pintu,
dibuat dadih berselang manggis;
Sudahlah jauh beribu batu,
diingat sedih dikenang menangis.

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Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Saya tauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Sekarang baru saya teringat apa sebabnya saya ditimpa hujan ilham ini. Dua minggu lepas saya tak sudah-sudah menonton filem P.Ramlee di YouTube! Oh iya! Dan yang paling mengusik jiwa sastera saya ialah pantun balas berbalas antara  Tun Nila Utama dan Puspawangi dalam filem Musang Berjanggut. Seminggu lepas pula saya asyik menonton filem Nujum Pak Belalang.

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Nah sekarang baru saya boleh tidur lelap. Misteri kenapa saya sakan berpantun seloka dan bersajak kebelakangan ini terbongkarlah sudah. Tiada lagi kemusykilan di hati. Dan bolehlah saya mengarang skrip sendiri:

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“Dinda mohon masuk beradu dulu ya Kanda Satria? Besok-besok kita bertemu lagi di Taman Larangan. Dinda janji, nanti Dinda mimpikan wajah Kanda Satria yang segak lagi manis macam Gula Melaka yang Dinda letak dalam buah… ahhh Kanda Satria ni! Buah apalah lagi kalau bukan Buah Melaka? Kanda janganlah tenung Dinda begitu. Nanti Dinda rindu. Ahhhh Kanda niii… nakaaaalll! Selamat malam Kanda.”

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Taman yang telah dipilih menjadi lokasi penggambaran filem pendek hasil nukilan Enida ini telah ditukar namanya dari Taman Bukit Pokrovsky kepada Taman Larangan. Harap maklum ye Kak Kiah?

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Enida berlari-lari manja semakin jauh dari Kanda Satria idaman beliau itu, dan tiba-tiba berhenti berlari. Dengan gerak perlahan, Enida menoleh ke belakang – ke arah wajah segak Kanda Satria, bertentang mata, dan menjeling ke arah Kanda Satria dengan jelingan paling menggoda abad ini. Enida menggigit hujung selendang beliau, seraya tertunduk malu dan memejamkan mata. Tangan beliau mengurut dada menahan beban asmara.

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Enida! Sudahhh!

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Enida buat muka merajuk perasan manja lagi merayu, membantah tak mahu masuk beradu padahal keesokan harinya anakanda-anakanda beliau nak ke sekolah. Bekalan makan tengahari harus disediakan sebaik-baiknya malam ini. Tetapi ilham beliau turun mencurah-curah elok-elok saiz rebas terus menjadi saiz lebat ibarat hujan kucing Siam dan kucing Parsi kejar mengejar. Maka Enida mengambil keputusan untuk menjual pantun beliau yang terakhir buat malam ini. Malam ini saja tau Kanda?

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Sumandak Bajau mengilas kundur,
kilaslah juga kuda padinya;
Mimpi dan igau menghias tidur,
bila terjaga mana serinya?

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Musim Cinta

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Yang mengisi ruang rindu
cumalah aku dan status Facebook ku,
berkias-kias antara diam dan kata-kata.

Mohon kasih moga kau tertoleh.
Memandang manis wajah rinduku.

Mohon kasih moga kau tertunggu.
Menggenggam erat paut tanganku.

Mohon kasih moga kau terhidu.
Mengucup harum syurga kasihku.

Demi masa,
tak tercapai rasa.
Demi ruang,
tak terucap sayang.
Demi kasih,
tak tertangis sedih.

Meninggalkanmu.

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*Enida
Pokrovsky Boulevard
Beregovaya Ulitsa 3
Hari terakhir February 2010.

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I Go

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Pergi

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Page 368: Chapter 8

… of the Face-to-Face Interpersonal Communication in the Workplace by Peter Chiamonte and Marco Adria:

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Epistemic Writing

Writing enables us to find out what we know – and don’t know – about whatever subject we are exploring, including ourselves. With each stroke of the pen an idea takes shape and becomes clearer. Mark Strand, a Canadian poet, describes the act of writing poetry as one of self-discovery: “What I want to do in a poem is discover what it is that I have to say.”

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Epistemology is the theory of the methods of knowledge. Therefore, epistemic writing is writing that aids in thinking, learning, and self-knowledge. This approach considers writing to be a form of thinking. We suggest that writing is an important means not only of expressing thought, but of discovering new ideas and reformulating them. In this sense, then, writing is thinking and thinking is writing.

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Many people keep journals, for many reasons…. We each have our reasons for writing – self-guidance, personal growth and the realization of our creative and leadership potential. Journalling can “help you to understand your past, discover joy in the present, and create your own future”.

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Postlude:

I wonder no more why I write. Future, I am creating you while discovering my present joy and understanding who I was. I am gone… writing.

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In the picture:

Thinking of You card by Emila Yusof
Envelope with IVANA written by Enida
Enida’s favorite color pencils

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Polar Express

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I’ve been watching way too much Polar Express since Christmas that I would grow a beard before I post another entry here. One thing for sure, though I’ve also been out, about, knockedout and talkedabout, I sometimes do feel that I am destined to be a polar bear in my next life – stuck in the snow and loving it..Snow is awesome (senza the yellow stain). I don’t mind the size. The bigger the cuddlier. And most of all, I like fish,  bearded seals, walrus and people. Beardlessly.

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Mondayne

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For a sunny mundane day that today was… I was brought back to a book that chose me on that Monday that felt like a Sunday in June. Just last year. And so it is… on a mundane Monday like today, I look forward to all the mundanity of Mondays if it brings me back to all the books that have chosen me.

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Meneka Dalam Kemerahsamaran

Marilyn: Enida, you are really glowing these days! Are you sure you don’t have good news for us?

Enida: Huhhh?

Lirang: Yes, you are. We are wondering!

Marilyn: Is there anybody new coming in less than 9 months? An addition or something?

Enida: Huhhh?

 

I say ‘Huh?’ a lot these days, don’t I? That was all I could say at first to Marilyn and Lirang the other day when I picked the ladies up at McDonald’s Tushinskaya on the way to Crocus City Mall. They got me blushing pink, as pink as my pink denim JURANG shirt. I don’t blush very often. I don’t wear pink very often either. So I came up with a blushing pink statement like…

 

“Oh it must be my pink shirt.”

 

Marilyn went on with the good news she received just the night before, that she’s going to be Mama Mary again to another grandchild, as she kept on teasing me with the glowing in the dark comment. With a serious smile on my face trying very hard to convince the ladies, I said…

 

“I’m done baking, people! Kitchen is closed.”

 

I am making some muffins tomorrow, though.
Seriously literally.

 

 

 

 

 

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